


our fathers were our models for G-d

by whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome



Series: it could be that G-d hates us [1]
Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Podfic Welcome, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, i made Denis Jewish and there's nothing you buggers can do to stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 18:40:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome/pseuds/whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome
Summary: Between leaving for the hospital and buying a TV and video games there's a lot to process for Tulip and Cassidy.





	our fathers were our models for G-d

        They get home from hospital and Jesse is nowhere to be found, and not answering his phone either. Tulip helps Cassidy settle Denis in bed and lays his new inhaler out with the tablets they got from the pharmacy while Cass fusses over blankets and appropriate pillow fluffiness and Denis grumbles about being treated like an infant.

        She leaves the room to give them some semblance of privacy. The fact that Cass has a kid, and that kid is _Denis_ , still hasn't really sunk in for her. But still her gut churns like she needs to puke and shit at the same time when she sees the way Cassidy looks at Denis. Her skin gets hot and prickly and she can't stay still, so it's either squirm in silent agony or throw herself into some activity so she doesn't have to just sit there with how she's feeling. Anything to take her mind off. She goes to the kitchen, puts the kettle on, and starts cleaning. She gets the sink running hot enough to scald and does all the dishes, then moves everything off the counters and onto the table before scrubbing them. She moves everything back and scrubs the table and wipes down the chairs. She's sweeping the floor when Cass finally comes in from Denis' room.

        Looking at Cassidy is a punch in the gut. She's careful not to make eye contact in case she loses it. She breathes out all in a rush, all the tension leaving her in a flood of weariness. "He sleepin'?" She focusses on getting her little dust pile just perfect so she can sweep it into the pan.

        "Aye, he's dropped off. Christ." Cass settles down into a chair next to the table, moving like the old man she always forgets he is. "Thank you, Tulip." He sounds more tired than she'd ever heard him, gravelly and husky like after he'd taken his little walk in the sun. She gets all the bits she can into the dustpan and uses a wet paper towel to pick up the rest.

        "No problem." Like it's no biggie that her friend's kid is old enough to be her dad, is old enough to be dying, while Cass still looks on the fresh side of thirty. She dumps the contents of the dustpan into the little round bin and puts the pan and broom away.

        "No, really. I know fuck all about hospitals and paperwork and insurance and you stayed with him while I took care o'meself even though you didn't have to. It means the world to me." He sounds so sincere it's like a knife twisting in her chest. He knows he's been a shit dad and she can hear that bone- deep knowledge even if she doesn't have the specifics.

        "You'd've stayed if you could." ' _You'd do the same for me,_ ' is right there, ready and waiting to trip off her tongue, but she can't begin to look at the implications of that, so it dies quietly behind her teeth.

    He catches her hand in the remains of his as she walks past and she looks at him, really looks him in the face for the first time since he was on the couch with Denis. She'd avoided it, tucking her feelings away for later in favour of getting on with things, but now there was no dodging it.

    His eyes are shining and he's barely holding on and she makes the decision to push her bullshit to the side again to take care of Cass right now. She'd walk over hot coals in order to avoid thinking about any of it so it's a relief.

    She doesn't even know where to begin. A son. Cassidy has a son. A son who looks old enough to be Cass' dad. Start there maybe. She pulls over a chair and sits down next to him and wraps both her hands around his.

    "So how old are you, anyway?"

    "I'm one hundred and nineteen years old." He sounds so sad as he says it, as if he had regrets for every single one of those years.

    "How old is Denis?"

    "Denis is, oh, about seventy. I think. Maybe a little younger."

    "You’re not sure?"

    "It were a long time ago, and I weren't too sober then, you know? I'm practically abstemious by comparison these days."

    She makes a little moue of disappointment.

    "Look, I spent the thirties and forties keeping me head down and minding me own business. The trenches are no place for a fella like me, alright? I went to Canada, to Montreal. Hardly spoke a word of French, but I got along alright, so. While I was there, I met a woman. Ruth. It must have been after '44, cos we had to ration the johnnies. Needed the rubbers for the War Effort.

    “She didn't care what I was. She'd work during the day and we'd be together at night. When she fell pregnant we were so happy. A proper little family. Well, except for the marriage bit. Her family disowned her for that. When she got fired after she couldn't hide bein' up the duff any more, I got a night shift job in a factory. After Denis was weaned she tried to get another job, but Ruth wasn't very well educated, ya know? She'd left school at 12 to help her mum with her brothers and sisters.

    “So she started turning tricks during the day and I'd go to the factory at night. We were happy, for a while. We made it work. But one of her johns started bringing her smack and that. She'd only do it with him at first but after… anyway, I got fired from the factory, so I'd stay with Denis and Ruthie would go to work. When she got home we’d have dinner, put Denis to bed, and…” he trails off, looking to the side and down to the floor. The next bit rushes out, by turns manic and loud and tortured and defeated.

    “For a while, it worked. It wasn’t easy and we were never rich, but... it worked. Until we lost a babe. We were so excited, we were gonna have a little brother or sister for Denis. After that though she was in a bad way. She didn’t want to chance it again so soon, but we had to save all the rubbers we could afford for her johns, so. And you couldn’t get them without a prescription in them days. It was really tough. She wouldn’t touch me for a whole year. We barely slept in the same bed. I’d have waited for her no matter what, but she was afraid. Afraid I’d leave her, maybe, or worse, she’d get up the duff and lose it again. But I could tell she just didn’t feel the same way anymore, so we stopped altogether. She said she felt like a failure. I tried to tell her it just happens sometimes, me own Ma lost more than one babe, but nothing helped. She got really down and couldn’t get back up again.

    “Then Ruth started bringing the heroin home. I’d done it before but only messin’ around, like. But it seemed like she felt better for it so we’d do it together. And then we started using more, and more, and more. Denis was in school by then so I’d take him in the morning, and one of the mums on the block would walk him home. We let them think it was cos I still had a night job and needed the sleep. I’d cook his tea and help with homework and all that. And the entire time I was high out of my mind. Ruthie would come home and we’d eat dinner. After a while she started coming home later and later. At first I’d wait dinner for her, but then Denis would get hungry and cranky. So he and I ate and herself would eat when she got in.”

    He folds his arms and puts his head down then, exhausted with the effort of confession. But there was still more to come. He rolls his face toward her and continues, “It got to where she was hardly home a’tall. Denis was mad at me the whole time, he thought I’d hurt her, or made her stop loving him. But she was just hurting too much to deal with anybody else’s shite. I wasn’t doin’ too great meself. Suddenly it was like I was a single da. The money was goin’ out faster than it came in. I tried gettin’ another night job but it was harder with all the GI’s back and freshly college educated and that. It was pretty terrible. I had to start leaving him overnight with friends and their parents, either so I could get shift work or go find Ruthie and bring her home. I started looking to move. Some place I spoke the lingo, maybe could get a better job. I’d take week long jobs in other cities, even going back to the States on the train. Tried to find a place to resettle.”

    Cass is crying now, with no other sign than the tears falling onto the table and the tightness of his voice. “A couple of months after Denis turned ten, I went out again to try and find her. I went to all her usual spots. I scared the shit out of johns and dealers and pimps alike. Shook every tree I knew. Finally one of the girls she worked with sometimes told me where to find ‘er. She was so cold. Her mouth was blue. I could smell what had happened. So I picked her up and carried her home. I waited for Denis to go to school in the morning and I cleaned her up. Called the funeral home. We couldn’t pay for a funeral, and her parents wouldn’t, so their Rabbi had a whip- round to raise the funds. After it was over, I had to leave Denis with his grandparents. People he didn’t know who never wanted him. But I was gonna come here, and make something of meself. Get a house, hold down a job, and send for him. By the time I got my shit together it was too late. He hated me and his grandparents wouldn’t even let me talk to him. It wasn’t even until after he got divorced the first time that he let me anywhere near him. And after that I’d check in on him from time to time. And now we’re here. And he’s dyin’. My baby boy is dyin’.”

    Tulip stands up and levers Cass up by the shoulders. She slides one knee onto the seat between his legs and wraps her arms around him. He buries his face in her chest and lets go, sobbing his heart out, wailing like a child. She cuddles and holds him, rocking slightly as she runs her hand through his hair and shushes him. She calls him honey and darlin’ and sweetheart, but not baby; not right now. She just lets him go until he calms down naturally. When his breathing evens out, she tips his face up to hers and presses a kiss, soft as snow and light as a benediction, onto his forehead, then his eyelids, then his cheeks, then his lips. She rests her brow on his and whispering, asks, “You want some aspirin? Cryin’ like that always means a headache.”

    He sniffs, says, “Yeah, cheers,” with a voice like 60 grit sandpaper and lets out a long shuddering sigh. He gets up and puts the kettle back on for tea as she roots through the cupboards for Motrin or whatever. They work silently, side by side, hands and shoulders and hips brushing in solid reassurance that they’re both here and real. Making tea is a grounding sort of exercise, familiar motions occupying his hands and not requiring any sort of higher functioning from his frazzled mind. Tulip hands him some indistinct round, brown pills and he just fuckin’ swallows ‘em dry, not bothered enough to ask what they are or whence they came. He dutifully chugs down the glass of water she presses on him as well.

    “You know, I haven’t ever told anybody all of that. Not even Denis knows. I’m not sure what he remembers either.” It was an awkward confession, but since it was only the latest of many, it seemed a small thing to put on top of the pile. Might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb.

    “Have you ever been able to talk to Denis? I mean, like, in French or whatever?” She can’t imagine never being able to communicate with her own child.

    Cassidy shrugs. “It never really mattered. We’d muddle along. He had some English when he was a lad, and a little smattering of the Gaelic too, but I suppose he’s forgotten it all. Or made himself forget it.” He gets milk out of the fridge and after noticing the orange gone mouldy on the shelf next to it gives it the sniff test. It doesn’t pass. He pours it away down the sink.

    “We need to go to the store. There’s fuck all in the flat to eat. Or drink, other than that terrible wine that Denis likes.” He truly lamented the fact that his son hadn’t inherited his own taste for whiskey. The wine Denis bought was fuckin’ _terrible._

    “Cass,” she hesitates. How to phrase it… ? He launches off into deflection before she can pin it down.

    “He needs to keep his strength up, we should get him some of those shakes body builders use, but not the ones with the steroids, those make yer balls fall off, we should get him the healthy ones, like from a crunchy granola, hippy-type health food store. Are there any around here? You used to live here, right? Way more recently than me, that’s for sure. Do you know anything abou-”

    “CASSIDY.” Her tone brooks no argument. He braces himself against the lip of the sink, clinging on for dear life. He’s heard her use it on Jesse with the same effect. “Take a fuckin’ breath. I was only gonna ask if you thought gettin’ someone who _does_ speak French would help. I mean, it can’t hurt, right?”

    He doesn’t know how to explain that it could hurt; it could open doors to rooms full of the baggage of the past that he didn’t have time to sort out, not before nature took her uncompromising due. How it could leave him with questions that he would never get an answer to, or questions he couldn’t give Denis a good answer to. How do you tell someone like Tulip that sometimes, it’s better not to lance the wound and drain it. That that kind of shock to the system could kill a person; in this case Denis. Or himself, come to it.

    In the end, it could only bring up a lot of old hurts and resentments that couldn’t be resolved before Denis ran out of time. He shrugs. “And what would I say to him, Tulip? Sorry I fucked up your entire life? I’m sorry I was completely off my face when you needed me? I’m sorry I left you with people who you didn’t know, and I couldn’t explain myself to you cos I never bothered to learn to talk to you? I’m sorry that I’ve been inconstant, perfidious, and pernicious? What the fuck is he going to do with all my ‘sorrys’, eh? Use ‘em to make a cure for being old?”

    She gives a wry, bitter smile. “Honey, sometimes we just need to hear from the person who hurt us that they know they done fucked up. It doesn’t make it better, you’re right. It doesn’t make it all go away. But it does feel good when someone admits they’ve wronged you.” Motherfucking Jesse Custer, lettin’ her twist in the wind over Carlos, before nuttin’ up and beating the shit out of him with her.

    He slumps like a marionette with its strings cut. “It does, that. I guess… I always just thought I'd have more time, you know? Utter shite, that. I might have all the time in the world, but none of you do. Even if you lived to a ripe old age, I’d still look like this,” he waved at his face, “and I’d still be alone.”

    She walks over to him and wraps her arms around him from behind. “Don't go borrowing trouble. That's a problem for the future. You got enough to deal with right now.” He turns in her arms to reciprocate the hug. His voice is almost light, teasing as he says, “And how did you get to know so much, then, hmm? How did you get to be so wise?”

    “Hard livin’ and the luck of the draw,” she drawls out.

    He squeezes her tight and lifts her up off the floor, just because he can, because it seems like a good excuse to bring some lightness into the conversation. He gives them a spin before setting her down and looking into her face. “Thank you. You're too good for me, Tulip. Truly.”

    “You're my friend, Cassidy. I’ll always help you out.” Her hands move from his back to his waist as she looks up at him, smiling. He wants to kiss her, she can see it. She can even see how it would go; soft and gentle, he’d hold himself back for fear of scaring her off, until he couldn't help it, and passion took over. It would probably be really good, actually. She's almost tempted to give in and let him do it, but it would definitely cause more problems than it’s worth. Even if she kinda is gagging for it. Jesse hadn’t even gotten morning wood since they started staying at the flat, and the business with Viktor hadn’t made her inclined to be romantic with him, either. If she did let Cass do it, she’d probably end up climbing him like a tree, she’s that frustrated. Oh, Lord, she’s talking herself into it. It really would be a Bad Idea.

    Reluctantly, she slides away from him, putting their boundaries back into place. She goes back to being Jesse’s girl, and Cass goes back to being his best mate. “I’ll make a grocery list. I want M&M pancakes tomorrow. Sounds alright?”

    Cassidy smiles a little sadly, but nonetheless genuinely, and agrees, “Sure and you don’t mind lookin’ after me boy while I go out?”

    “Normally I charge for babysitting. But for family it’s free.”

    Cassidy smiled at her like the sun coming out after a storm.


End file.
